


kent parson is a liar

by goaliesareweird



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Character Study, M/M, collection of angsty bullshit and cute bullshit, kent parson makes me sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 12:53:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8372956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goaliesareweird/pseuds/goaliesareweird
Summary: Over the years, Kent learns to control his expression enough to hide how he's truly feeling. Luckily for him, he also manages to find someone he can be completely transparent with.





	

    Kent Parson always has to control his smile around Jack.

    He wishes he didn’t. He wishes he wasn’t so fucking transparent, wishes that he was capable of hiding the genuine, lopsided grin that creeps onto his face whenever he’s around Jack. That he didn’t view everything Jack did as something to smile over.

    But that’s impossible, because Jack Zimmermann is the type of person who is just  _so endearing_  that everything he does makes Kent feel uncontrollably happy. Little things, like how he taps his helmet twice whenever he makes eye contact with Kent across ice. How he mumbles to himself in French when he’s nervous.  _The fact that he brings noise canceling headphones to parties._

 From across the room, Kent can see Jack curling into himself on the couch, nursing what was his third beer and bobbing his head to the party’s thumping music that must sound muffled to him, since he’s wearing  _his_   _fucking noise canceling headphones that make him look adorable and **God does Kent want to release the grin he’s holding back and kiss Jack on his stupid fucking face.**_

     But he can’t. He can’t allow himself to kiss Jack, not here, in a sea of people. Hell, he can’t even let his smirk slip, he’s that obvious. Anyone with half a brain could see the way Kent smiles at Jack and put two and two together.

    So Kent tries the next best thing. He begins to snake his way through the drunken crowd, holding his drink high in the air and ignoring the group of girls attempting to meet his eyes. He plops himself onto the couch and immediately grabs Jack’s free hand. The party is just dark enough that he can get away with it.

    Jack glances at Kent with a droopy smile and softly squeezes his hand. Kent’s heart stops. He shakily brings his cup to his lips, only to hide the small, earnest smile that he had let slip.

* * *

 

    

    Kent has a grin stitched across his face as he looks to the blur of people in front of him, taking photo after photo of him in an Aces’ uniform. Their cheers seem muted; their faces look interchangeable. Kent feels like he’s watching everything unfold through a television screen. They continue to take pictures, and the cameras’ white flashes bring him a few hours back, to a tiled floor scattered with blue pills. Back to Jack’s limp body and closed eyes.

    Kent forces his smile to stretch even further. He knows it doesn't reach his eyes.

* * *

 

   

    It’s 2 am and Kent is drunk as hell, stumbling his way through Los Vegas with lipstick smeared on his collar and two phone numbers in his back pocket. It would have been admirable- if Kent actually knew where he was going.

    It’s perfectly reasonable to be lost in a city you have just moved in. It’s slightly less reasonable to be lost in a city you’ve lived in for the past two years and play hockey for. His phone has been dead for hours, and he’s hoping to God that no one will recognize him. That no one will have to see Kent Parson, Hockey Player Extraordinaire, with a fucking lipstick stain on his shirt, so drunk that his words slur together.

   To be honest, the whole situation is a little nerve-racking.

  “Yoooooooooooo, is that Kent Parson?”

   Goddamn it.

   Kent throws on a grin and salutes the group of people in the passing car, which earns him a few cheers. The car speeds off, and Kent can see it nearly knock over a streetlight in the distance. His smile deflates, and he adjusts his snapback to cover his eyes.

   He needs another drink.

* * *

 

   

    “Can I help you?”

     Kent wakes up on a pavement with a dry throat and a throbbing headache. His vision is hazy, but when he squints he can make out a shirtless, brunette man above him, leaning over the railing of an apartment balcony. 

    “Jack?” Kent croaks out.

    The man raises a single eyebrow. “The name’s Nick.” He’s carrying an open flask in his left hand.

    Kent’s vision clears, and he forces out a chuckle. It sounds as unnatural as it is. “Yeah, sorry, man. It’s just that you look like my- you look like somebody I used to know.”

    Nick’s face softens, causing Kent to bite the inside of his cheek, cursing himself for slipping, afraid that Nick was going to prompt him. Instead, Nick studies him, taking a long sip from his flask.

    His eyes are so much darker than Jack’s.

    Kent decides to stop thinking about Jack. 

    “Seriously, man, are you okay?”

    Kent swallows. “Why’d you ask?”

    “Well, when some stranger is passed out in front of your apartment at three in the morning, you tend to get concerned.”

    Kent pushes himself up to sitting position with a grunt. “Ya know, the pavement’s surprisingly comfortable if you’re drunk enough.”

    Nick snorts, “No, it isn’t. Is passing out on the side of the road the type of thing you do often, Blondie?”

    Kent smiles weakly at the chirp, trying to ignore its accuracy. “The name’s Kent, shithead.”

    “Okay, _Kent,_  but in all seriousness, is there any way for me to help you? People don’t usually pass out on the sidewalk for no reason.”

    Kent sighs, running a hand through his hair. “God, I don’t know. Could you... could you call a taxi for me? I’ll pay for it. Wait,” Kent digs in his pocket and checks his wallet. Which was completely empty, besides four dollars and a Ben and Jerry’s gift card. He groans and dramatically falls back to the sidewalk. “I can’t pay for it.”

    Nick softly chuckles. “Dude, it’s fine. Once I’m sobered up,” he says, tapping his flask against the balcony’s railing, “I can easily drive you home. I have a car, it’ll be fine.” Nick hesitates, glancing down to his drink. "My only requirement," he adds, "is that you'll have to spend the night at my place. I would like to prevent such a nice-looking man from sleeping on Las Vegas' frankly disgusting sidewalk. You're lucky there's no dried gum in your hair."

    Kent laughs to himself while anxiously running his hands through his hair once again, an action that Nick notices and smirks at, causing Kent to blush. After a moment of silence, Kent finds himself nodding. "Sure," he agrees, his eyes trailing Nick's body up and down. "Since you invited me and all. Thank you."

    "It's my pleasure," Nick says with a stupid grin on his face, and for once, Kent can't help but smile back.

   

    Kent is still smiling during the car ride home the next day, with a hickey on his neck and three phone numbers in his back pocket.

* * *

 

    Nick’s arm is slung around Kent’s shoulders as Kent stares at his television, transfixed. He absentmindedly strokes Kit.

    The TV is showing live coverage of Jack at a press conference, draped over a too-small podium wearing his usual stoic expression, allowing a group of reporters to gawk at him and the small, blond boy standing to his right. He answers their questions in his usual monotone voice, but Kent notices something different about him, something he can't quite place his finger on. It was possibly the way he carries himself-usually when speaking at press conferences, Jack gave off an aura of dread, like he was desperate to sink into the floor and escape. This time, he seems ruthlessly defensive, his back tense like he's physically preparing himself for a check.

    It isn't until the boy next to him, the boyfriend, offers Jack a gentle hand squeeze, that Kent realized what exactly was different. Instead of a droopy, drunken smile, Jack responds enthusiastically to the small sign of affection, with dilated pupils and a look of pure adoration. Surprisingly, it doesn't hurt like it would two years ago.

     Kent doesn’t see it, but Nick is looking at him with the exact same expression.

    Kent leans against Nick, who softly places his lips against Kent’s ear and murmurs three words that only Kent can hear. And Kent smiles a small, earnest smile that he lets Nick see in the light of day. 

    Maybe one day they’ll be as unapologetically open as Jack and Eric. But as of now, their shared smiles and quiet _I love you_ s will be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> You know, I originally wrote this because I had a theory that Kent was hardcore dissociating while he was being drafted, and as angsty as that section of the story was, this ended up being a cute story about Kent getting a boyfriend?? With Zimbits happily coming out??? Not the original plan, but I'm pretty happy with it. Kent Parson still makes me emo though.
> 
> Characters are from the webcomic Check, Please!, which is written by Ngozi Ukazu and can be read at http://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com/. 
> 
> My tumblr is @goaliesareweird.tumblr.com


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